Passion for Mustache'n
by AbruptlyChagrined
Summary: Sue Clearwater has a secret fetish that eventually leads to her and Charlie Swan being more than "old friends". Written but never submitted for the Stache Riders contest- one shots regarding Charlie Swan and his mustache


**A/N:** Okay guys, this is my first piece of writing that I am posting publicly. I originally wrote this one shot for the Stache Riders Contest, in which the one shots had to be about Charlie Swan and his ...mustache. Yeah.

So anyway, I didn't make the deadline, but to be honest, my entry was WAY too tame, compared to the other ones. :-o

Please review and don't be afraid to leave any constructive criticism. That is the only way I will grow as a writer.

**Passion for Mustache'n**

My name is Sue Clearwater, and I have a mustache fetish.

Now, I love my dearly departed husband Harry with all my heart, but the man was Native American, like me. Native men do not grow facial hair...well except for eyebrows and eyelashes, of course,-which they have in abundance. Think about it, have you ever seen a Native man with a mustache?...goatee?...full beard?...or even one of those annoying little "Soul Patch/Flavor Saver" thingies under their bottom lip?

Nope, you haven't, have you. Sometimes I used to fantasize about what Harry would look like in one.

Tom Selleck, Charles Bronson, Chuck Norris.

*_sigh*_

Charlie Swan, the man who had been my husband's best friend and fishing buddy for decades, had a mustache. Charlie's mustache was thick, shiny, and well-groomed. Never was a piece of food, or lint, or unfortunate particle of dried mucus to be seen in its lush bristles.

Then there was the uniform. Who doesn't love a man in a uniform? With his dark brown, long-sleeved Sheriff's shirt and matching slacks, polished black leather boots, gun belt slung sexily just under a slightly protruding beer belly...and the _jacket_! I could write an ode to that damn sexy leather Sheriff's jacket alone! The official Forks Police Department patch sewn onto the left arm and the shiny star badge on the chest just make the fantasy complete. Sigh.

Even in his canvas fishing vest, over his old flannel shirt, with all the pockets for bait and hooks and lures, and the worn out khaki hat with hooks and lures imbedded in it, he was a sex god. The way his strong lips wrapped around the opening of a can of Rainer beer...the lovely bristles brushing the top of the aluminum. UNGH! It was enough to send shivers through my whole body. On more than one occasion, I imagined how that mustache would sweep over various parts of my body.

Now here we were, alone again at his small kitchen table, surrounded by the cheery yellow cabinets and he was yet again eating a dinner I had lovingly created for him.

We had been seeing each other for months now, under the guise of two life-long pals enjoying mutual comfort in each other's company in the aftermath of my husband's (and his best friend) loss, and in the days after his daughter's wedding and departure on her honeymoon and new life as a grown woman and a wife. What _other_ things she might now become, I didn't like to ponder.

Yes, it made sense in the prying little minds of Forks' resident busybodies that we keep each other company during these trying times.

But we both knew it had become something else, something...more.

I was falling in love with Charlie Swan.

The reasons were many, but one of them, admittedly, had to be the way his marvelous mound of lip hair was now lovingly caressing the fork as he indulged himself in my culinary offerings.

My own food went cold as I admired him.

He looked up then, perhaps sensing my eyes on him, and when his chocolate brown eyes met mine, I didn't look away.

I have never been the shy type. Quiet, maybe- a woman of few words- but not shy.

When I want something, I work to achieve it.

I want Charlie.

As he finished up his meal, I snapped out of my little trance and began hurriedly nibbling at my cold food to at least make a show of eating.

I picked up his movement out of my peripheral vision and turned to watch as he lifted his napkin to his lips, and wiped the last bit of tomato sauce from his strong lips. When I saw he missed at spot at the corner of his mouth, my hand reached up in impulse, and with my own napkin, I began to wipe at his lips with soft strokes..

He froze in his seat and looked at me, his brown eyes widening in surprise at my action.

"Oops", I said in explanation, "You uh...missed a spot."

He blushed a little, but held still for me like a good boy.

I took advantage of the situation to rub my napkin over the beautiful object of my fantasies that lay over his upper lip. It was exciting, - the closest I had ever gotten before, but the napkin was an annoying barrier. I set the napkin down on the tabletop, and went to move my bare hand back to his face. He looked down at his plate, cheeks still rosy, but he held still. My hand shook a little- not out of nervousness, but anticipation. Was I really going to do this?

I opened my hand a little wider and finally made contact. I swear a little electric jolt went through me as the sensitive skin on my palm met the silken hairs, and slowly...gently...brushed downward and came to rest lightly on his warm lips.

I didn't even breathe.

Then, Charlie did something I did not expect.

He raised his eyes to meet mine once more, but there was a fire there I had never before seen.

Charlie is such a reserved, taciturn man, that I often wondered if there wasn't a fire underneath that cool, aloof demeanor somewhere. His ex-wife, Renee- whom he still held somewhat of a torch for, was a very excitable, colorful, vibrant person who loved life and was always out for adventure. I always figured that Charlie had to have _something _special about him that could hold the attention and affection of a woman like her long enough that she married and produced a child with him (before taking off on her merry way and breaking his heart).

I realized I was getting a glimpse of that special something when the expression in his eyes deepened, and he took my hand in his own. I thought he was going to take it away from his lips, but instead, he pressed my hand closer, and kissed my palm with both a tenderness and passion that I had never seen in him before.

My breath caught.

Suddenly, I was transformed from a middle-aged, widowed, mother of two teenagers who was world-weary and jaded, to a giddy young girl who just had the first spark of passion ignited in her by the boy she wrote in her diary about.

My heart was pounding so hard I could hear its beat in my ears as he slowly lowered my hand, and held it within his own on top of the table. His hand was large, strong, and warm, and my own hand felt at home in his gentle grip. He seemed to collect himself finally, and his gaze dropped from mine and back to his dinner plate. Neither of us spoke, and the silence was heavy in the tiny kitchen with the yellow cabinets. Charlie pursed his lips a little, as if in thought, and his mustache twitched invitingly with the small action. I licked my lips in anticipation of what he might say.

"So...uh...Sue...ya know, I really wanna thank you for how you've kept me company these last few days, what with Bells getting married and off on her honeymoon and all.." He grimaced on the word "honeymoon" as if he'd just eaten an under ripe lemon. "Wow, married." he said, shaking his head "I still can't wrap my head around the thought of Bella being all grown up and someone's _wife_." He mused, glancing off out the kitchen window at the trees. I squeezed his hand with mine.

He gave a humorless chuckle and looked away, his eyes reddening. "It's not fair, ya know? He continued "Renee got to have her for seventeen years, and I got to have her with me for less than two."

I didn't know what to say to him to give him comfort. It was hard enough to soothe a parent experiencing Empty Nest Syndrome under _normal _circumstances, but with what Jacob had told us of Bella's impending transformation into a vampire, and the staging of her death that needed to follow to cover up that transformation, I was at a loss as to how to relieve Charlie's mind, knowing he was about to lose his daughter in a much more permanent way than even he was aware of. If poor Charlie's life were a movie right now, it would be less "Father of the Bride", and more "Father of the Bride of Dracula".

I shook that thought off, and told him the only truth I could offer. "Charlie, the basic thing you need to remember is, you will _always_ be Bella's father, no one can ever take your place in her heart, and she will love you forever." (Forever being a very apt description in this case)

He sighed and nodded, but his shoulders and jaw seemed to relax a little at my words. He turned back to me, and his eyes, so much like his daughter's, looked wistful and vulnerable, as if he had something he wanted to say, but was afraid of my reaction.

_Just say it, Charlie, _I pleaded internally, but waited silently.

"Sue, you know how much I loved and respected Harry..." He began, and his magnificent mustache quivered with his effort. "...and I have always respected you too, as his wife-"

He paused and cleared his throat, as if to say more but faltered and looked away. "I know it hasn't even been a year since he passed, and that you and the kids are still in mourning, but I just want you to know that I..."

He looked back at me, and seemed to lose his resolve.

He released my hand.

"So...uh...Sue...ya know, I just-" He sighed sadly. "I really wanna thank you for the wonderful dinners you made for me this week." he forced out those last words quickly with an exhale of air.

My heart sank. Was that it? Was that all I was ever going to get from this man? _"Thanks for the dinner?"_

Really, Charlie?

I was suddenly angry, or maybe it was frustrated, or disappointed...hell, it was all three.

I pushed my chair away from the table forcefully. "You know what, Charlie? I am a vibrant, vital woman." I nearly shouted in his face. His eyes went wide at my sudden outburst. "Maybe you're done with living, but I'm not!"

I stood and swiftly crossed the kitchen to retrieve my empty Tupperware dish from the countertop near the stove. Too angry to stop and wash it, I pressed the cover back on it, and stuffed it back into the shopping bag I brought it in earlier. I wrapped the leftover food in some foil and tossed it into Charlie's fridge, slamming the door after.

I turned to face him, and he was frozen in place, still staring. His eyes were big, his mouth was slack, and that glorious lip curtain above it beckoned me teasingly. I was even more pissed off as I realized I may never achieve my dream of feeling that silky mustache on my mouth, or any of my other parts.

I decided to just lay it all out on the line, and damn the consequences.

"I also happen to be a very _sexual_ being, Charlie Swan", I continued, and his eyes bugged dangerously, his cheeks going dark red. "I miss my husband very much, I always will, but I have a life to get on with, to enjoy, and Harry would not want _either one_ of us to stop living just because he had to. He would want us to be happy, Charlie", I went on. "And, if we could find even a small piece of that happiness in each other's arms, then so much the better, he would say."

"You spoke before about Bella, and you're right, she has moved on to the next stage of life, as all of us once did as well, and as my own two children will soon do. (I didn't mention they'd be doing it as werewolves.) We have played our roles in nature, Charlie, and now that our offspring are ready to fly on their own and are leaving the nest, it's time for our lives to be our own again. I don't want to walk through this life alone, Charlie" I leaned toward him as I said this, and looked deeply into his eyes. "I want a friend, a lover, and a companion." He gulped, but remained silent. I folded my arms across my chest and challenged, "What do _you_ want?"

He gulped again, and looked down at his hands. He looked as if he was struggling for the right words, but I was done waiting. I snatched up the bag with my Tupperware dish and stalked out of the kitchen and into the hall, grabbing my purse that was hanging on a hook next to his gun belt.

"Sue...wait..." I turned, and Charlie was so close behind me I ran into him when I faced around. His chest was pressed against mine, and our faces were almost touching. He took hold of both my upper arms to steady me. His sudden proximity made my resolve to storm away in a dramatic fashion stall. His chest was hard and warm through his plaid flannel shirt, and he smelled terrific- like Old Spice, cotton fabric, and _man_.

His cheeks were red, and there was a hesitant look in his eyes as he held me close to him, but not close enough for my liking.

My heart pounded in my chest like I was a fifteen year-old on my first date.

I saw the hesitancy in his eyes turn to resolve...and then he began to move his face towards mine.

_Oh God, he was going to kiss me!_

I closed my eyes, and tilted my head towards his. I still had my purse in one hand, the bag of Tupperware in the other. His hands slid up to rest gently on my shoulders.

He paused, but I didn't open my eyes as he mumbled, "I'm a little out of practice at this..."

...and then his lips met mine, firm and warm, and I felt...

_It._

...the mustache.

His bristly masterpiece brushed my cheek and upper lip in the most tantalizing way.

It was like kissing a really sexy walrus.

I felt giddy and light, and sighed happily as our lips moved gently in synchronization.

After what seemed like ages, we broke apart for air. His eyes were wide with wonder, and a slow smile began to cross his features. I smiled broadly in return, and he pulled me close again and our lips reconnected a few more times. By the time we broke apart again, my own pulse was hammering in my ears. I felt like one of us had to speak.

"That was...so good." I stated simply. "Yeah", he agreed, and looked down, shuffling at the wood floor with the toe of his right boot. His shyness was adorable.

Impulsively, I blurted out, "I don't want to leave."

He looked up at me, surprised, and then replied, "I don't want you to go, either."

I nodded, and held his eyes silently. The next move had to be his.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and blushed that lovely shade of red...now I see where Bella inherited that trait from. "Would you like to...er...see my room?" he said, his voice rising higher at the end from nerves.

"Charles Swan..." I dropped my purse and the Tupperware near the door and sauntered slowly toward the mustachioed hunk, "...I thought you'd _never _ask..."

I took his sweaty-palmed hand, and let him lead the way...upstairs.

_I am going to buy that man a gold mustache comb for Christmas_.


End file.
